'A million pounds is a lot of money,' said Carrie thoughtfully, looking out of the side window. 'You could knock the house down and build a brand new one in its place.'

'That wouldn't be the same,' replied Joel. 'You only get the money if you live in it as it is. And what would you do with all those smelly cats?'

'I'd get Toby to chase them away.'

'Some of the cats were nearly as big as Toby; they might chase him.'

Harriet left them to their hypothetical debate and thought about how her efforts to apologise to Dominic had so far come to nothing. She had rung his number countless times but had run aground on an answering machine each time. Her messages for him to call her back had all been ignored and she'd decided not to waste any more energy on him. She had quite enough on her plate without worrying about Dominic. Work was picking up and next week she was off to Dublin. Her trip coincided with half term so it meant that there were no early starts for the children or her parents. However, it did mean that Bob and Eileen would have to entertain Carrie and Joel all day. Will had very kindly offered his daughter as a babysitter.

'Now that Suzie has definitely quit university, she might be glad of something to do,' he'd said, adding, 'It might also give her something else to think about.' Harriet had thanked him and said she would bear his offer in mind.

It was tempting to think that life was beginning to get easier, but Harriet was reluctant to get her hopes up, in case some new drama befell the Swift family. However, it was good to know that there were people close by to whom she could turn for help: Miles and Will, to name but two. In contrast, those she'd once counted as friends down in Oxford had all gone quiet. Even Erin; she hadn't been in touch since their disastrous weekend.

Will had also recommended a good friend of his who was a solicitor and who could act on her behalf when she was ready to buy a house. It certainly made sense to use a local guy rather than the firm she'd used in Oxford. Having got to know Will better, Harriet now realised just how unfairly she had judged him, especially when it came to bringing up children. He'd told her about his house-husband days. 'I can't tell you how much I enjoyed being at home with the girls,' he'd said. 'Call me a soppy big girl's blouse, but the thing about kids is the utter devotion you feel for them. It's the purest, most uncomplicated love you'll ever experience; one hundred per cent unconditional.'

'I'll have to take your word on that,' she'd said, recalling that Felicity had said something similar when Carrie was born.

Miles was already at the restaurant when they arrived. 'Have you been waiting long?' Harriet asked him.

'Just a few minutes.' He helped her to divest the children of their coats and small rucksacks containing puzzle and colouring books and felt-tip pens and anything else Harriet hoped would keep them amused. When they were settled, Miles produced two small Novel Ways carrier bags. He pa.s.sed them across the table to Carrie and Joel. 'I thought you might like these,' he said. Their faces lit up when they each pulled out a book. 'That was very kind of you,' Harriet said, after the children had thanked him and started to turn the pages. They looked up briefly, minutes later, to decide what they were going to eat and to unwrap a breadstick each, then returned to their books, leaving Harriet and Miles free to talk. She suddenly felt enormously proud of them. Compared to the family on a nearby table, where the children were squabbling amongst themselves and flapping their menus about while their parents tried to ignore them, Carrie and Joel were models of good behaviour.

'Did you manage to speak to Dominic?' Miles asked.

'No. I've left several messages but I think he's deliberately ignoring me.'

'I wouldn't be at all surprised. He can dole out the insults, but he can't take any himself.'

'What can't Dominic take?'

This was from Carrie. Despite there having been no more postcards or letters from Cambridge, Carrie still regarded Dominic as a favourite person. Harriet was saved from answering by the arrival of a basket of garlic bread. When the waitress had left them alone Miles said, 'We're having a special Halloween event on at the shop next week during half term; I don't suppose you'd like to come, would you, Carrie and Joel? We're making pumpkin lanterns followed by a story hour. Everyone has to dress up as a character from a book. I'm thinking of dressing up as Dumbledore.'

Two eager faces stared at Harriet across the table. 'Can we go, Harriet?'

Harriet still found it weird that she was the one whose decision was sought on such matters. 'I don't see why not. What day is it, Miles?'

'Friday afternoon. You can come along as well if you like. If you can get away from work an extra pair of hands could be useful with all those pumpkins.'

She pulled a face. 'How tempting you make it sound.' But then with a smile, she said, 'I can't guarantee it, but I might be able to join you. I'll be flying back from Dublin that morning and skiving off early could well be justified.'

They decided to walk off lunch with a stroll in the park. They'd sneaked out a couple of half-eaten bread rolls in their napkins and were on their way to feed the ducks. There was a biting chill of approaching winter in the air and after the comforting, garlicky warmth of the restaurant, they b.u.t.toned up their coats and quickened their pace. As usual Carrie and Joel ran on ahead, kicking madly at the fallen leaves on the path. Anyone looking at them would have taken them for the perfect nuclear family. The thought, which not so long ago would have horrified Harriet, gave her a curious feeling of pleasure. She slipped her hand through the crook of Miles's arm. He turned and smiled. 'Cold?'

'A little,' she lied. But it wasn't the cold she was feeling. Being with Miles like this gave her a sense of hope and optimism. There was something very right about the four of them being together. As crazy as it sounded, she could picture Felicity looking down on them and nodding her head approvingly.

By the time they'd caught up with Carrie and Joel, a greedy crowd of ducks had gathered at the edge of the pond. Some were out of the water and had formed an intimidating tight circle around the children, causing Joel to squeal with nervous excitement as he flung them crumbs of bread with panicky, jerky movements. When they'd run out of bread, they wandered over to the play area. At Miles's insistence they all clambered onto the see-saw, Harriet and Carrie on one end and Miles and Joel on the other. The children screamed each time they were jolted high in the air, and seeing the look of happiness on their faces as they ran off to the roundabout, it was hard to imagine they'd so recently gone through the trauma of losing their parents. They're moving on, Harriet thought as she watched Carrie telling Joel to hang on tight. It's really happening.

Breaking into her thoughts, Miles said, 'They're great kids, aren't they? They've coped so well.' He stood beside her and put his arm round her shoulder. 'Felicity would be proud of them.'

'Jeff too.' She was beginning to realise how easy it was for everyone to forget her brother-in-law. A man she was feeling increasingly sorry for.

But there was another man she had started to feel sorry for. A man she didn't even know. She had no idea why she hadn't thought of it before, but Felicity's lover must have been distraught when he found out she was dead. How he'd discovered, Harriet didn't know, but the emails had stopped the day of the crash. Somewhere there was a man in deep mourning for Felicity. How was he coping? How was he dealing with his grief? Did he have friends he could turn to? Or was he in so much pain he had been unable to do this? He had become so very real to Harriet that she had actually taken the step of sending an email to the address Felicity had been corresponding with. She had decided that if he wanted to talk to someone, to pour out his grief, without fear of recrimination, he could do it with her. Very briefly, she explained that she was Felicity's sister and that she knew about the affair. It came as no surprise to her, though, when her email came bouncing back. The account she'd messaged had been closed.

A squeeze on her shoulder made Harriet look up at Miles. He said, 'We should spend more afternoons like this.'

She smiled. 'I'd like that.'

He held her closer. 'And if you'd let me, I'd like to do more to help with Carrie and Joel. They feel like family to me anyway.'

Harriet thought about this later that evening when she was looking for a clean nightdress for Carrie in her chest of drawers. Remembering the look on Miles's face when he'd kissed her goodbye - a light kiss on the mouth - something stirred in her and she felt a lightness of spirit. Was it possible that she and Miles could be more than just friends?

She was on her way out of the room when she caught her foot on the waste-paper bin. She bent down to tidy the mess and noticed a screwed-up ball of paper in amongst the pencil sharpenings and used tissues. Without knowing why, she picked it up and smoothed it out. What she saw horrified her, and she cursed under her breath. 'The nasty, foul-mouthed little b.i.t.c.hes.' Right. This called for tough measures. She quickly folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans. She then recalled Will's words about getting to the bottom of Carrie's actions. Once again her respect for the man went up a degree. It also explained the reluctance Carrie had started to display on Sunday evenings about going to school the next morning. And the occasional mutterings of stomach aches and sore throats at breakfast time.

She said nothing about the note or what she was going to do about it to Carrie when she tucked her into bed that night, but she found herself giving the girl an extra big hug.

'I enjoyed today,' Carrie said. 'Did you?'

'Yes, it was fun. And you've got Friday afternoon at the bookshop to look forward to now, haven't you?' She was conscious that Carrie needed as many things to look forward to as possible. School must have become a nightmare for her.

'You will try and be there too, won't you?' Carrie asked. 'Miles invited you as well.'

'I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best.'

'Will you help us to make some costumes?'

'I've got a much better idea: why don't we ask Grandma to do that? You know she's better at that kind of thing than me.'

Carrie smiled and held out her arms. 'Can I have another hug, please?'

When Carrie was sure Harriet had gone downstairs, she got out of bed and tiptoed through to her brother's bedroom. 'Are you awake, Joel?'

He turned over and sat up. 'What is it?'

She closed the door after her and got into bed with him.

'Do you think Miles is Harriet's boyfriend?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. What do you think?'

'I saw them holding hands in the park. And I saw them kiss. If Harriet married him we wouldn't have to live in a horrible house that smelled of cats. We could live with Miles in Maywood. I bet he has a lovely house. And we'd always have lots of books to read.'

'Would it be like having a proper mummy and daddy again?'

'Sort of. If we moved to Maywood, we'd have to change schools. You'd like that, wouldn't you? A new school with nicer people in it.'

Joel hugged his sister tight. If Carrie was right, and she always was, then everything would get better. If Carrie was happy in their new school, she wouldn't think of running away again and he wouldn't have to worry about being left all alone.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

Bob knew it was selfish and unworthy of him, but he couldn't wait for half term to be over and the children to return to school. So long as they were around, it was difficult for him to slip away and see Jennifer. Any walk he went on, any errands he needed to do, they clamoured to go with him. They were bored, he knew, but couldn't they amuse themselves just occasionally? He'd thought he'd got it cracked yesterday when he'd taken them shopping and had stocked up on bargain-priced videos, along with some bottles of fizzy drinks, popcorn to go in the microwave and a selection of sweets from Edna Gannet's. But the result was that by late afternoon they were bug-eyed and climbing the walls, the slightest thing setting them off. Totally out of character, Carrie had actually turned on Joel and s.n.a.t.c.hed his silky from him. When Eileen had managed to make her give it back, Joel had become hysterical because Carrie had ripped one of its corners. It was at that moment Harriet had come home from work and found Carrie refusing to come out of her bedroom and Joel wailing like a siren. She had suggested that maybe the children needed more variety and less sugar to their days. Easy for her to say when she was safely out of the house each day. What he wouldn't give still to be working! Still to be on the road chasing the orders, feeling the buzz. Being himself.

That was what he liked about Jennifer; she made him feel his old self. She had planned to move on earlier in the week, but the problems she'd experienced with the engine on her arrival back in Kings Melford had worsened and she had to stay put until it was fixed. The chandlery at the marina was doing its best to get hold of the necessary parts, but there had been a mix-up at the factory in Germany and the wrong parts had been sent out. A further order had been placed, but the chandlery, so Jennifer said, was doubtful it would arrive before next Tuesday.

It was fate. He knew it. She was meant to stay.

He'd managed to see her a few times this week, either early in the morning when walking Toby before the children were up, or at night when they were in bed. His feelings for Jennifer had intensified but not in the way he might have antic.i.p.ated. She had made it very clear that she was not the sort of woman who would have an affair with a married man.

'That's not what I want,' he had said, taken aback by her candour, but at the same time, relieved. He didn't want there to be any ambiguity to their friendship. 'I find I feel better about myself when I'm with you,' he told her. 'You make all the bad stuff go away. All the anger. All the hopelessness. Am I making any sense to you? Or do I sound like a man going nuts?'

'You sound like a bereaved man who needs a friend,' she'd said simply. 'So long as we're both clear on that score,' she'd added. 'I'd hate for your wife to get the wrong idea about us.'

Today had started badly, as far as Bob was concerned. It had been raining so hard first thing that when he'd whistled to Toby and reached for his lead, the dog had stared at him in disbelief and hunkered down inside his basket. 'You're surely not thinking of going out in this weather,' Eileen had said. There was something in her tone and the look she gave him that had him shrugging and saying, 'Perhaps not.'

The rain had stopped and now, at Eileen's suggestion, he was driving them all to the garden centre. He would have preferred to come on his own, but Eileen had said that while she was deciding which daffodils bulbs to buy, he could treat the children to a ride on the miniature gauge railway train that ran through the garden centre. The train ran every day during the summer, but for the rest of the year it was Sundays and school holidays only.

They split up at the garden centre; Eileen inside to mull over the vast choice of bulbs, and Bob and the children to the wooden-built ticket office for the train. Carrie was wearing her I'm-too-grown-up-for-this face, but Joel was eager to be first in the queue. There was no queue, and they were greeted by a young lad whom Bob recognised as the boy who had carelessly sprayed him with a hose the last time he was here. 'Two kids and an OAP?' the boy asked, glancing up from a huge pair of b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the newspaper he was looking at on his side of the counter.

Bob hated being categorised as an OAP and had often lied about his age, preferring to pay the full rate rather than be labelled a poor old duffer. 'Just two tickets for the children,' he said, handing over a five-pound note.

The lad pa.s.sed him the tickets and change, and grinned. 'Better to play it safe. You don't want too much excitement at your age, do you?'

The urge to ram his fist down the cheeky sod's throat was so strong, Bob had to take a moment to compose himself before giving the children their tickets. He was vaguely aware that Carrie was asking him a question. She was always asking questions. Occasionally numbness set in and he ignored her.

'Granddaad!'

Pulling himself together, he gave her his full attention. 'There's no need to shout, Carrie. What is it?'

'Why was that man looking at a picture of a naked lady, Granddad?'

'Because he's a perfect example of the kind of low-life sc.u.m this world is full of. Now then, here are your tickets. Carrie, you make sure you sit next to Joel.'

'Aren't you coming with us?'

'No, Joel, I'm not.'

'But what if I fall out?'

'Carrie will hold on to you.'

Joel looked at his sister doubtfully. Perhaps, thought Bob, the memory of his ripped silky was still too fresh in the boy's mind.

The train came into the miniature station and a handful of small children with their parents stepped out of the fourseater carriages. The driver waited a full five minutes before tooting his whistle and letting rip with a blast of coal-fired steam. Carrie and Joel were the only pa.s.sengers as the train set off on its mammoth eight-minute trek. They waved at Bob - Carrie's hand barely moving, but Joel's waving frantically - and all at once he was overcome with a desperate sadness. Never had his grandchildren seemed more alone. Oh G.o.d, he thought as he returned the wave, I'm going to cry.

Carrie wished it could be like this always. No school, no horrid letter, no spiteful girls, just lots of lovely days out. After the train ride at the garden centre, and a beans and sausage lunch in the cafe, they were now going into town. While Grandma was having her hair done, Granddad said he'd take them round the shops.

'Can we go and see Will?' she asked when they'd dropped off Grandma at the hairdresser's and were parking the car.

'Good idea; it's a while since I've seen him.'

But Will wasn't around. The man called Jarvis, who'd worn the funny slippers that day she'd run away from school, told them Will was at an auction. 'Oh, well, tell him we called,' Granddad said.

From there they went to what Granddad said was his favourite type of shop. 'The thing about charity shops,' he said, as he pushed open the door, 'is that you never know what you might find.'

Carrie wrinkled her nose. 'What's that smell?'

'The smell of too many things squeezed into too small a place. Do try and keep your voice down, won't you? Now listen, there's a section over there with books and toys; why don't you both go and have a rummage?'

'Where will you be?' Joel asked.

'I'll be right here, sorting through this lot.'

Carrie looked uncertainly at the pile of junk her grandfather was already inspecting and took Joel up a step to the back of the shop, to the children's area. 'Look, Joel,' she said, pointing to a low shelf, 'it's a train like the one we've just been on.'

'No it isn't. It's broken. And it's not the same colour. And it's ... ooh, look what I've found.' He held up a clockwork mouse. He turned the winder, then let the toy loose. It scuttled across the dirty carpet, and kept on going until it disappeared into a small, curtained area. They chased after it and dived under the curtain to find themselves looking up at a pretty blonde girl; she was just pushing an arm through the sleeve of a jacket. 'I think it went under my bag,' she said with a friendly smile. Embarra.s.sed, they both slid out the way they'd just come. Within seconds the girl appeared and handed them the clockwork mouse. 'I know you two, don't I? You live over the road from my father.'

Carrie smiled. 'We've just been to see him at his shop, but he wasn't there.'

'Tell me about it. I was supposed to be having lunch with him, but an auction came up. I'm Gemma by the way. I hear that my dad's offered my sister's services as babysitter for you two.'

'Really?' asked Carrie.

'Don't look so scared. She's quite friendly. See you.'

Carrie watched the girl go and pay for whatever it was she'd been trying on in the changing room. 'She was nice, wasn't she?' she said to Joel.

'Why do we need a babysitter? We've got Harriet and Grandma and Granddad. We don't need anyone else.'

Carrie sighed. She was getting fed up of Joel's constant worrying. 'Even when we had Mum and Dad, we still had a babysitter,' she reminded him. 'Don't you remember Mum used to say it was important she and Dad went out without us sometimes? She called it grown-up time. Come on, let's ask Granddad if we can have this mouse.'

As they went to find their grandfather, Carrie had a sudden memory of her mother getting ready to go out one night. Dad had been away, and Carrie had been surprised that her mother was going out on her own. 'This is Mummy time,' she'd said with a happy laugh. 'Do I look nice?'

'You look lovely,' Carrie could remember saying. 'Where are you going?'

'To see a friend. A special friend. Kiss me goodnight and be extra good for the babysitter.'

That night seemed a long, long time ago.

They were leaving the charity shop when Carrie saw someone she recognised from school, and panicked. Emily mustn't notice her! But before she had a chance to slip behind her grandfather, Emily looked across the road and saw her. Their eyes locked and, in an instant, the day was ruined.

During the drive home, Joel sat behind Grandma, whose hair was all stiff and smelling of hairspray and kept thinking about what Carrie had said. That their parents used to go out without them. He had only one memory of them going out at night, and that was the night they never came back. Then, from nowhere, he recalled something he must have forgotten about that night. Dad had been angry about something. But what could Daddy have been angry about?

'Have you and your wife ever thought about bereavement counselling?'

Bob closed the door on the wood-burning stove, stepped over Toby and sat down on the bench seat. At the other end of the table, Jennifer was mixing herself a hot toddy. He'd been here for less than ten minutes, but already the strain of the day was slipping away. And it had been one h.e.l.l of a day. First there was his anger with the ignorant oik at the garden centre, then the heart-wrenching sadness he'd felt for the children, and then, for no reason at all, Carrie had turned into the monster from h.e.l.l, refusing to eat her tea and kicking up the d.i.c.kens of a row when Eileen said she wouldn't be allowed to go to Maywood to the bookshop on Friday if she didn't behave. But here, on board the Jennifer Rose, he at once felt rested and calm. 'No,' he said finally in answer to Jennifer's question. 'Eileen wanted to, but ... but I couldn't bring myself to discuss something so personal, not with a stranger.'